


Knowledge

by Self_Indulgent_TMNT



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: F/M, M/M, Part-way through main quest, Post-shivering Isles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 06:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19079305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Self_Indulgent_TMNT/pseuds/Self_Indulgent_TMNT
Summary: One of the horrible curses of being the new Sheogorath was knowing.Eventually the realm of madness had grown tiresome and they had returned to the mortal plain to live out the life they had once intended, a minor diversion before returning. The madness faded in the mortal realm and they became a new person, it was rather enjoyable. They hadn’t intended on seeing the death of the emperor, on winding up involved in the upcoming end of the world. They hadn’t intended on meeting Martin.The weight of the knowledge they carry threatens to crush them. But Martin won't let it.





	Knowledge

One of the horrible curses of being the new Sheogorath was knowing. When the mortal with a rusty sword and an enchanted bow had taken on a new title and accepted the role of deity there was a rush of information coming in and they had discovered the cyclical nature of all things. Eventually the realm of madness had grown tiresome and they had returned to the mortal plain to live out the life they had once intended, a minor diversion before returning. The madness faded in the mortal realm and they became a new person, it was rather enjoyable. They hadn’t intended on seeing the death of the emperor, on winding up involved in the upcoming end of the world. They hadn’t intended on meeting Martin.  
He was doomed, they knew as much from the moment they saw his face. Powers that were as easy as thinking in their own realm faded in the mortal one and the precise reasons they knew he was doomed weren’t clear, but they knew he was.  
Sheogorath was doomed, too. From that first day when they’d scooped Martin Septim out of Kvatch and walked with him to Weynon Priory they knew that this newest adventure would destroy them. Within hours of meeting him they felt something they had never felt before, and for a god that is quite rare. They fell in love, hopelessly and quite against their will. They didn’t know why but they knew this man would change everything, they knew he would be all they could think about for centuries to come.  
If they could have saved him, they would have. If it had taken the lives of a whole city then that would have been a small sacrifice. If it meant the hero had to go back into an endless number of gates then they would do it without hesitation. If it meant sacrificing themselves, not by dying but by living forever and never seeing him, they would have taken his hand, squeezed it oh so tight and walked away with a smile on their face.  
Every moment with him was an exquisite combination of purest bliss and the ultimate agony. It was like he was dead already.  
He could never know, could never be told of his impending doom. Could never know of the love Sheogorath felt for him. That would ruin the fun, they told themself, would ruin the little mortal game they were playing where they pretended everything was fine and dandy and pretended deities weren’t intimately involved.  
That was a lie. The real reason was they couldn’t bare to make him more afraid than he already was. They couldn’t have told him without telling him so much more, without telling him why they knew, what they were.  
And knowing a god is in love with you is a scary thing. Especially the god of madness.  
But the way he smiled at them made them feel safe. Sheogorath wasn’t in danger, couldn’t possibly be, they were a ruddy god! And yet… Somehow his smile made them feel safer than they’d felt in an eternity.

“Martin”  
“Yes, my friend”  
“You know that I’m…”  
Sheogorath hadn’t intended on bringing up the topic, but it had been playing on their mind lately and somehow the words had slipped out before they could be cut off.  
“Yes?”, Martin looked confused by the sudden stop and start of the inquiry, although such speech patterns were not uncommon with the god of madness.  
“Sorry?”  
“You started asking if I knew something about you, my dear”  
“Oh, yes. Well, it’s just that… You know that I’m not… Not… conventional”  
“Conventional?”, a small smile crossed his face. “If you mean do I know you’re not exactly normal then yes, I was aware. After all you’ve done, things even history’s greatest warriors and minds could not achieve, I think I’d have to be a fool not to guess that you’re a little different”  
“And it doesn’t bother you?”  
“Should it?”  
“Well…”  
He smiled wider now, affection clear in his manner as he reached a hand across the table to where Sheogorath sat opposite him and took theirs, setting aside the Xarxes for once.  
“My friend, the world is in crisis and everything we have ever known is falling down around our ears, and yet here you are, standing tall in the wreckage. You are our hero, our champion. If you were not somehow more than the rest of us then you would not still be here”  
“I never said I was more, Martin, I am merely different”  
“No, but I said it. You are more than the rest of us”  
For the first time since taking the title, Sheogorath wished that wasn’t true. They wished they were mortal, wished they were normal, wished they weren’t burdened by the knowledge of what was to come. Wished they could be with him, not forever, just for a lifetime.  
They sighed. “I wish that were not true, Martin”  
Silence overcame them, no longer knowing what to say or if anything was needed. Martin seemed content to leave the secrets be.  
Martin always seemed content to let the secrets be. There were so many things that, to his mortal understanding, shouldn’t have been possible. Shouldn’t have been close to possible. And yet he sent his dear, dear champion off to do them and they were done. He did not ask how, just thanked that it had been done.  
Martin was very good at not asking.  
Too good.

When the god cracked, darting from a fitful slumber in the Blades barracks with horrible images in their mind, questions should have been asked. When they slipped upstairs and slid open the door to the sleeping Martin Septim questions should have been asked. When those perfect eyes fluttered awake to find a hero, a friend, a desperate, broken god peering at them from above questions should have been asked.  
But they weren’t. Martin accepted that he could never understand the broken look on the usually so carefully held together face, accepted that there were entirely too many reasons for his friend to have come to him in the night seeking comfort. He accepted there were some things he didn’t want to understand, that there were things in the hero’s dreams that would haunt him forever if he knew. So, he asked no questions, just sat up with a small, sympathetic smile, and patted the bed beside him.  
“Sit” he said.  
“I…”  
If they sat then there would be no going back. They didn’t know how they knew, but they knew.  
“Sit” he repeated, not harshly but certainly more firmly.   
“There were things in my head. Things I can’t un-see or un-know”  
“I know. Sit”  
“Things that would destroy you”  
“I know. Please, sit”  
“I can’t bear it, Martin. In all my time I have never found something I can’t bear, but this…”  
He reached a hand up, catching onto the loose fabric of their sleeping clothes and pulling gently. The vague mentions of the long life the youthful face had lived went ignored, filed under ‘accept and move on’. “Sit with me, my dear”  
The knees of a god buckled and they sank, almost fell, onto the mattress next to a dragon. Words tumbled freely from their mouth, words they didn’t know how to stop but knew they should.  
“I know so much. I see so much. I don’t know why, I can’t connect the dots, but it’s horrible. All of it is horrible. I want it to destroy me, it should destroy me, I should have that at least. I should at least be allowed to be crushed by it all, but somehow I don’t break, I just keep taking on more and more terrible knowledge that I almost understand and I wish it would kill me”  
“Don’t say that”, he let a soothing shush from his lips as a hand toyed with his companion’s hair.  
“But it’s true. It would be so much easier to die, to be destroyed by it all and fade into nothing”  
“Of course, it would. But we cannot let it do that, cannot let it take us from ourselves. It threatens to overwhelm us but we don’t let it. Because this is what we are here to do”  
Perhaps that was true for him. Perhaps this was why Martin Septim existed, to see the world through this crisis. But Sheogorath did not belong there.  
“I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s all wrong”  
That shush escaped him again and something inside Sheogorath stirred, some memory of someone loving them. “But you are here. That’s the important thing. And I couldn’t be more grateful that you are”  
Something close to a sob started in their throat. “If you knew, Martin… If… It would destroy you-”  
“I know it would. So, don’t tell me”  
His face was so close now, entirely too close to be safe. They should have moved away, have run straight from that room and all the way back to that door on a tiny Island in the middle of the Niben Bay and not stopped running until they were safely back on their throne spouting nonsense that made absolute and complete sense but also didn’t.  
But they didn’t do that. They let him steal their first kiss, and their second. They kissed back, unable to do anything but fall into that comforting embrace and finally know the feel of him. They cried that night, curled up in his arms and so horribly at home there. Being held by him was more wonderful than even the god could have imagined.  
This. This was why they had felt that terrible dread ever since they’d first set foot in Kvatch. This feeling of security and peace and love was enough to sacrifice a million ages of grief to. And Sheogorath knew that was what they faced now.  
Martin let his new lover cry, let the feelings he wasn’t allowed to understand leak out of the broken hero and let his closeness remind them they weren’t alone.

 

In that moment, Martin Septim knew he was doomed.  
He didn’t know how, he didn’t know what would happen, but, lying in the dark in a draughty, cold temple with a sobbing warrior in his arms, he knew that nothing would ever be the same. It was nothing to do with being emperor, it was nothing to do with Oblivion, it was something about the person in his arms, it was something about him.  
He wished it weren’t true but somehow he had fallen in love.  
He would give everything for that person. He would do anything to save them from the horrors that constantly haunted them.  
Yes. Martin was doomed.  
He knew in that moment what this must all come down to. His champion had sacrificed everything for him, giving up whatever innocence they may once have had for him. And so, Martin Septim would give up his life for his champion. So that they didn’t have to face anymore horrors.

If only Martin had known.


End file.
